


The Cursed Prince

by NotMyBestIdea



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Fairy Tale Curses, Fairy Tale Elements, M/M, Originally Posted on Tumblr, Royalty
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-12-20
Updated: 2018-12-20
Packaged: 2019-09-23 08:42:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,342
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17077049
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NotMyBestIdea/pseuds/NotMyBestIdea
Summary: The Castle is cursed - the kind of curse that probably lasts a hundred years before it gets broken. It's been about ten.





	The Cursed Prince

Stiles and Scott had grown up in the shadow of the Castle. Everyone in Beacon had, of course, but Stiles and Scott (and Jackson, but Stiles refused to group his name with theirs) were princes, so they had grown up in its shadow metaphorically as well as physically.

As the sons of the Triumvirate, Stiles and Scott (and Jackson) were the most likely candidates to inherit the Castle - and the kingdom of Beacon along with it. Based on the curse that had to be broken in order for that to happen, it was more likely going to be one of their descendants - when was the last time a curse like that had been broken in less than four generations?

So breaking the curse was not that high on Scott’s to-do list. It wasn’t on Stiles’ either, but since Jackson was actually trying, he at least took an interest in it. As a bonus, he got to watch Jackson get his ass kicked at every attempt.

“What’s he doing now?” Stiles wondered. This time, the Castle was surrounded by thorns. Jackson had already tried hacking at them with a sword (and then a chainsaw), to little effect. “Is that a ladder?”

“I doubt it will work,” Scott said with disinterest. “Do you think the Argents will petition this year?”

“Ugh, I hope not. If the Argents and their land become part of Beacon again, we’ll have a Quadrumvirate, and that just sounds stupid.”

“And that would be a tragedy.” Scott shook his head in mock despair, then brightened. “It could be called a tetrarchy instead. That’s not too bad.”

“I suppose,” Stiles answered, distracted. “Is the wall of thorns growing? I think Jackson’s gonna need a bigger ladder.”

“Anyway, the petition?”

“If your mom hasn’t said anything, you know my dad sure hasn’t.” 

“Yeah, but you snoop better than I do.”

Stiles grabbed his chest. “I’m wounded, Scotty. Wounded.”

“It’s true, though.” Scott grinned at him.

“Yes, but you’re not supposed to just blurt it out like that. What happened to all those hours of etiquette lessons that Lady Martin drummed into us?”

Just then, Jackson stormed past them. His clothes were torn and he had ugly scratches on his hands and forearms, as well as a nasty-looking welt on one cheek. Unfortunately, it accented his cheekbones nicely. “Out of my way, losers,” he snarled and shoved Stiles, who hadn’t even been within arm’s length of him. At least he knew better than to shove Scott. The bloody nose Stiles had given him the first (and last) time he’d done something like that had done its job.

Stiles caught his balance and smirked. “You don’t look so great, Jackass. How’s the curse breaking coming along?”

Jackson ignored him and stomped away.

“How do you think they would decide? If the Argents do petition?”

“Now that King Gerard and Princess Katherine are dead, I think my dad and your mom would say yes. As for  _ King David Whittemore _ ,” Stiles lifted his chin and affected a snooty accent when he said the name, then shrugged, “who knows? Sometimes he says no just because they say yes.”

“Two’s enough though.” Scott was beaming, staring dreamily at the thorn-enshrouded Castle, but Stiles was sure the Castle had nothing to do with his friend’s brilliant smile.

“Yeah.” Stiles knocked his shoulder into Scott’s. “What’s with the sudden interest in the Argents?”

Scott shrugged. “Just wondering.”

Stiles slung his arm around Scott’s neck. “Scotty, you are a terrible liar.”

“Hey, I thought we weren’t supposed to just blurt things out like that,” Scott protested. “What about those etiquette lessons?”

“Ignored ‘em completely,” Stiles said. He would prod Scott for the truth later. “Let’s go. I want to see Lydia laugh in Jackson’s face when she finds out he failed again.”

“She’s not going to laugh in his face,” Scott said, but he let Stiles pull him along anyway.

~

It didn’t take long for Stiles to figure out Scott’s secret, and he didn’t even have to hound him about it mercilessly, because the next day was the Anniversary.

As was traditional, on the Anniversary, the Triumvirate - Stiles’ father, Scott’s mother, and Jackson’s father - held a moment of silence during the Remembrance ceremony being held in the Great Hall of the Palace, followed by the Offer of Reconciliation. In very formal language, they basically proclaimed that if the Argent family wanted to apologize and swear never to curse the High King (or Queen) ever again, the Triumvirate might consider letting them come back to Beacon and take their place on the High King’s (or Queen’s) advisory council (currently the ruling Triumvirate, until the curse was broken and the High King [or Queen] took over). It was the same every year and it was all very boring.

Until the Argents walked in.

King Christopher and Queen Victoria entered the Great Hall, followed by their daughter, Princess Allison. Stiles had never met her, but he knew of her, just as she certainly knew of him, Scott, and Jackson. 

Judging by Scott’s longing stare and the fleeting glances Allison kept darting Scott’s way, she and Scott were beyond ‘knowing of’ each other. She was obviously the reason behind Scott’s recent distracted behavior. When had they met and why didn’t Stiles already know all about this? He and Scott would be having words about best friends telling each other everything later.

He would also be having words with his father over his total lack of surprise that the Argents had actually shown up this year. 

King Christopher made the required apology, managing to sound sincere without groveling, and then petitioned to ‘reunite the country that had been so cruelly torn apart’. Queen Victoria’s jaw was clenched so tight she could have bitten through a steel bar, while Princess Allison just looked regally neutral. 

Afterwards, the apology-slash-petition went to committee, as Stiles liked to call it. It boiled down to his father and Melissa accepting the apology-slash-petition while  _ King David Whittemore  _ (snooty accent required) sat there looking like he was sucking on a lemon while he ‘thought about it’. It was just for show, of course.

“How can we trust history won’t repeat itself?” he said, all fake concern. “It was your own sister who set the curse on the Castle and destroyed Queen Talia Hale and her family. How can you expect the next High King, or Queen,” he added hastily, “not to fear your knife in their back?”

The tension in the room went up 5000 degrees. Everybody was probably thinking that exact thing.

Except for Scott.

“Your Majesty, King Christopher banished his sister for her crimes, against his father’s wishes. Surely that shows we can trust him.” Scott’s voice was very loud in the quiet room.

Stiles didn’t necessarily agree. Scott always saw the best in people, despite the overwhelming evidence of human nature to the contrary. In this case, though, Stiles thought he was probably right. Christopher Argent was so stuffed full of honor he couldn’t comfortably bend at the waist. 

That was common knowledge, so with a little more hemming and hawing,  _ King David Whittemore _ finally agreed to everything, and then the party began. It was a solemn event, being a tribute to the lost royal family, but still a party.

Instead of joining Stiles at the buffet to people-watch and mock the brown nosers that surrounded their parents (and to keep Stiles’ dad from eating too much fatty food), Scott excused himself and approached Princess Allison. Stiles followed after, curiosity getting the better of him. He got there in time to witness their awkwardly sweet greetings.

“Hello,” Scott said.

“Hi,” Princess Allison said.

They both blushed and smiled and looked at everything but each other.

Since Stiles had never met an awkward moment he couldn’t make ten times more awkward, he decided to join the conversation. “Heyyyy, Scotty. Aren’t you going to introduce me to your girlfriend?”

Princess Allison’s eyes went wide. Scott paled. “Wh-what? Girlfriend? She’s not my- I mean, we just met-”

Stiles clapped Scott on the shoulder. “Relax, buddy. Hi, I’m Stiles,” he said to Princess Allison. “How do you and Scott know each other?”

Princess Allison looked desperately at Scott, but said nothing.

“We...don’t?” Scott said hastily.

“Right. So you’re over here talking to this lovely princess without a proper introduction because...? I mean, we both know I’m horrible at the etiquette thing, but what’s your excuse?”

“We’ll be formally introduced at the Reconciliation ceremony,” Princess Allison said. “But I think we can be forgiven for being informal right now, under the circumstances.” She smiled sweetly, but there was a twinkle in her eye, like she thought the whole etiquette thing was ridiculous too.

Stiles hastily amended his initial impression of her. Maybe she wasn’t Princess Allison, but Allison, who happened to be a princess. Maybe he would like her after all. He’d reserve judgement until after he got the truth out of Scott.

~

It was surprisingly hard to get the truth out of a smitten Scott. He kept lurking in Allison’s general vicinity whenever he could and mooning over her whenever he couldn’t. All he wanted to talk about was Allison, except for how they had actually met. Scott could be amazingly stubborn when he wanted to be.

The Reconciliation ceremony was a big event, and Stiles spent a lot of time at the Castle, avoiding all the preparations taking place at the Palace. The Argent family’s unused rooms at the Palace had to be aired out - which funnily enough had already been arranged before the Anniversary - and everyone had to agree on the wording of the formal declaration of unity and the menu had to be decided and a million other things were going on that were really none of Stiles’ business. All he had to do was stand with his father and try not to trip or knock anything over, which he had been doing with varying degrees of success since he was eight years old.

The Castle was less forbidding when Jackson wasn’t around trying to break in. The thorns were gone, leaving the outer walls bare. The portcullis was down, as always, and the whole area was shrouded in an oppressive silence. Even the birds weren’t singing. If Stiles - or anyone - tried to get in, something would spring up to keep them out. Thorns, an unbreakable glass wall, a magical fog that was so thick you somehow got turned around and walked right back out the way you’d gone in. Once there had even been a mountain of ice, so cold they could feel the chill coming off of it all the way down in the town. 

The funny thing about the Castle was that it hadn’t become the Castle until Princess Katherine Argent had cursed it along with the royal family. High Queen Talia Hale and her family had lived in a lovely modern palace right in the heart of the town, very like the one the Triumvirate now inhabited (which was somewhere to the right of the heart of town, as Stiles liked to say). The curse, being a very traditional one, had transformed it into a medieval-looking monstrosity made of stone, right out of a fairy tale, and perched it on a hill overlooking the whole kingdom. Which just showed how weird magic really was. It was a hill, easily climbable, and yet somehow you could see all of Beacon from the top. The Castle was also visible from any part of the kingdom. 

Stiles was wandering around the base of one of the watchtowers when he heard voices - Scott and Allison. His shoulders slumped; he really didn’t want to be a third wheel while they smiled and flirted and were disgustingly cute. Their voices drew nearer and he hastily turned and walked away. The Castle grounds were well-kept (magic again), with flowering shrubs - which sometimes turned into wicked thorn bushes - at the base of the curtain wall. Sometimes there was a moat instead, depending on how often Jackson had attempted to get in.

“And no one’s ever been inside?” Stiles heard Allison say from around the watchtower.

“No. No one’s even gotten a glimpse. If anyone tries, the wall just… gets higher. Or something worse happens.” Scott had never cared about the Castle before, but now that Allison was interested…

They were getting closer. Without thinking, Stiles ducked behind one of the flowering bushes. He held his breath as they meandered past, Scott regaling Allison with one of Jackson’s more spectacular failures. Once they were well past, he exhaled as quietly as possible and tried not to gulp in more air. Maybe holding his breath hadn’t been the best idea. Eventually Scott and Allison rounded the far watchtower and Stiles slumped against the stone at his back.

Stone? The Castle wall!

Stiles jumped up and immediately fell flat on his face. He covered his head and lay still; maybe he could escape whatever defenses the Castle was going to deploy this time without getting too bloodied. 

Nothing happened.

Stiles lifted his head and looked around. Everything was normal - no thorn bushes, no fog, no ice wall. There was a creaking sound, like a door opening, which was impossible. Stiles looked at the wall… and saw a wooden door standing ajar. It was mostly hidden by the bushes, but there was no way it had been there the whole time.

Stiles got to his feet and approached slowly, ready to run if it turned out to be a magical defense of some kind. His mind readily supplied possible scenarios, like enchanted suits of armor pouring through and attacking. Or if he went through the door - and who was he kidding, of course he was going through the door - he’d end up in a dungeon or something. Nobody had died while attempting to get in, but there was a first time for everything. Was Stiles willing to take that chance?

Hell yes he was.

He looked around once more, then walked through the door. It closed behind him.

**Author's Note:**

> This was supposed to be a ficlet for my new followers fic giveaway back in June. I am slowly working on the next chapter. It may only be 2 or 3 chapters, but I honestly don't know.


End file.
